Perfect Pictures and Broken Mirrors
by Bright Silver Lady of Midnight
Summary: Insanity, when paired with sadism, is a dangerous thing. To be insane is to be trapped in your own mind, unaware of your own actions and unable to do anything about them, anyway. Insanity is no comfortable feeling, especially when you drag others with you


Pictures. They were everywhere. They were in Annabeth's textbooks, which she worked so hard to decipher, even though her dyslexia made that pulling teeth. There were pictures in the streets; of the sweet couple holding hands and grinning as big as Christmas, seemingly frozen in that one moment forever. And she was in one. It was perfect, from the outside. From the outside, there were smiles. Nobody could detect the hollowness behind each of them, the false note in her voice.

It was easy to smile to anyone's face, but scream for help on the inside, after awhile. Annabeth started off easy; a civil conversation with a son of Ares she'd never glanced at again. A hello and a compliment to a daughter of Aphrodite. Then, she really began to push herself. She'd meet her siblings' eyes from across the table and make sure they'd see joy in hers. She'd say hello to Chiron, and ask him how he was doing. After awhile, she could look Mrs. Jackson, who'd always been so kind to her, in the eye and be secure in the fact that her smile looked real. The hardest was her father. It took her nearly all summer before she had the confidence in her lie to Iris Message him, and when she finally did, the conversation ended with more false smiles and belief in her lie.

After awhile, _she_ almost started to believe in it. Percy had been so kind to her; sending her roses, giving her chocolates, he didn't even complain when she made him watch a "chick flick" with him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders when she cried watching The Notebook and never said a word to anyone about it.

Then, things got worse. Money got tight again. Both of them worked two jobs and hardly ever saw each other. Percy was still the sweetest person on the earth during their few minutes together. He smiled at her still, but the flowers and chocolate stopped coming. She didn't say a word about it; she knew the way things were. After awhile, he became merely passive, and she was much the same. Her homework kept her up late, and her funky hours at her jobs made her tired.

Soon after, Percy's anger became easily provoked. His frustrations were being built up deep inside his chest and Percy, being the most open person Annabeth knew, was slowly driven insane from it. He snapped at her, but she backed off. In hindsight, that's where it all started. _Annabeth and Percy_ no longer meant two hearts forged as one or whatever bullshit the children of Aphrodite tried to pull around them. To Annabeth, it was more a chain. Chained by her schedule. Chained to her schedule. Chained to her boyfriend. Chained _by_ her boyfriend.

Looking back, _that_ was why she didn't leave him when she could've. Her schedule. She became used to his moody presence, and she accepted it. Accepted him heart and soul, but it happened in the quiet way that these things usually do for Percy and Annabeth. She felt more than she'd admit the first time he struck her. She'd been hurt by him before, but it hurt more in her chest cavity than it did where the plate had ripped the skin of her face open.

It healed quickly, once she ate and drank enough ambrosia and nectar. Her face was now healed completely, except for the thinnest white line that stood out against her sun-tanned skin. That, too, would heal with more. But she couldn't take more just then. She felt lightheaded and nauseous, and needed human food to balance out her overdose. The food and drink of the gods was to be used sparingly. It was to be used in emergencies, not when you don't want people to see a cut on your face.

It hadn't been the last time he'd struck her, either. She sustained cuts and bruises from him. The times were few and far in between, but were becoming increasingly more frequent and brutal. He was insane and dragging her down with him, but there was nothing to be done. She didn't have the money to live on her own, and living with her Dad would be beyond mortifying. She could smile and lie to his face for a few minutes, not on command for twenty four hours. Besides, there was no leaving Percy. He didn't have to tell her that he'd kill her if she ever left. She could see the insane glint in his eyes, and she knew what lay ahead of her.

Annabeth walked out to the kitchen and put the remaining ambrosia and nectar back in the cabinet where they belonged. Percy was asleep on the couch, snoring and drooling like he'd never done anything wrong. The box of Lunesta sleeping pills was open on the coffee table; his hand was still on it. She checked the inside of the box to find that five were missing. She didn't know whether or not to be worried about the fact that she didn't care if that was four too many, and that four too many could kill someone.

Instead, she gave a sadistic laugh to herself and pulled out her bronze knife. Percy was laying on his side on the couch, drooling on the smooth fabric of the pillows, and still holding _her_ Lunesta in that damn death grip. He was so far under, she was sure he would never know. A long, thin cut decorated the small of his back now. His eye twitched in his sleep, but he didn't wake. Following that was a joyous feeling of accomplishment, bursting within her chest and making her laugh out loud. It was a sadistic, cruel sound, but she didn't care. Annabeth didn't even notice.

From the outside, their relationship was like a picture. Both smiled to the camera, and crossed their fingers behind their backs, hiding ever so well the beasts that lay in wait. The camera couldn't see the insane flash of rage in his eyes, or the way he held on to her too tightly. The camera and the people on the other side couldn't see if she took out her knife and pressed it ever so lightly to the small of his back, enjoying the fact that all she had to do was press down, and her misery would be over. To everyone else, their relationship was a picture.

To Annabeth, it was a broken mirror. Two people, destroyed in the prime of their youth, and forced together for the rest of eternity. There was a crack down the middle of the mirror, a crack that couldn't be fixed. One that drove a wedge between Annabeth Chase, and the man she thought she loved. The broken mirror had jagged shards on the end, shards that bit into her heart and flesh as she and Percy were estranged further, but for the first time, she was powerless to do anything. Powerless to do anything but hold the mirror and the picture next to each other, comparing what is to what could have been.


End file.
